


On Set with Sam

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: A Breath of Home [61]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 15:41:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1475200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Ryan meet at the San Diego Comic Con and hot sex ensues. In this chapter, Ryan joins Sam on set during his shoot on Ilha Grande, Brazil.</p><p>
  <i>"Mmm, that's right." Sometimes, Ryan wants Sam to slam him against the wall and fuck him open until they're both screaming. Sometimes... Yeah, this is one of those <b>other</b> times. He angles his hips and rocks back to meet his lover, savouring the slow burn and the slick glide.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Set with Sam

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone familiar with the [RPG Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read), this is NOT backstory for our pups in the game. In Citadel, Sam is played as the actor and Ryan is played AU as a songwriter. And then a little birdie told us our boys were going to be at SDCC at the same time in real life and we couldn't pass up the opportunity to see what would happen in another world, with the boys both as their actor selves.

Ryan's wearing shades, a hoodie pulled up to cover his hair, and his hands are stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. He's trying to look inconspicuous, but he's self-aware enough to realize he probably looks like the Unabomber 2.0 instead. Oh, well, as long as he gives genuinely friendly smiles to the crewmembers who pass him with questions in their eyes, then he figures he's probably doing okay anyway.

He's on the set of Sam's current film, and he's so excited to watch his lover work. He visited one of Sam's other movie sets long ago, and fuck, all he remembers is that Sam was mesmerizing, and the sex afterwards was fucking amazing. He grins to himself, hoping that today will end the same way.

Sam's aware Ryan's there, at the back, watching him, but if he pays too much attention to his lover, he'll tip his hand for sure. Regardless, he skims the cast and crew every break they get and can't help breaking into a huge grin when their eyes meet.

God, Sam's smile. Maybe Ryan's just a walking corndog of a cliche, but that smile seems to spread sunlight through him, warming him to his toes -- and igniting his lust. He ducks his head, then shoots his lover a grin right back.

Fuck. Sam just stares at Ryan for a long moment before glancing quickly around, making certain no one's watching _them_. But no, thank god, everyone's busy with their own shit, and they stay that way through the rest of the morning until Sam actually gets popped in the face during a fight scene, a huge purple bruise blooming on his cheekbone.

 _Jesus!_ Ryan sees the punch, can tell even as it lands that it was way too solid for the choreography. It's all he can do to keep from leaping over the bank of monitors and shoving a tech out of the way to get to Sam. He actually rocks forward onto the balls of his feet, ready to fly into action before he catches himself. He fists his hands tightly in his pockets and lets the set medic do her job, but his eyes are wide and worried as he studies his lover.

Sam sits as the medic looks him over, checking to make sure nothing's broken. She hands him two pills which he pops with some water and then a wrapped ice pack which he holds against his cheek, waving off the director's concerns about whether he needs to call it a day. "An early lunch would be good though," he allows, his stomach rolling as he rises to his feet, giving Ryan a crooked smile when he locates him in the gathered crowd.

Ryan's jaw is tight with worry, his entire body stiff and surely radiating a 'Don't fuck with me' vibe which he's not even aware of. He catches Sam's smile and nods in acknowledgment, but doesn't relax by even one muscle fiber. Waiting until Sam breaks free of the mob, Ryan hits the catering tables and loads up two large plates with food. He's got no idea whether Sam is interested in eating right now, but just in case. Then he goes and knocks on the door of his lover's trailer, just barely managing to balance the plates.

Sam opens the door, the ice pack still pressed against his cheek. "Thanks for grabbing lunch," he says, locking up behind Ryan. He takes one of the plates from his lover and sets it on the table. "You okay?" 

"Only kinda sorta," Ryan answers, setting the other plate on the small counter. "Let me look." He pulls the ice pack away and studies Sam's cheek with a clinical eye. "How much does it hurt, from zero to ten, if zero is no pain whatsoever and ten is... I don't know, stepping on Legos barefoot?"

Sam chuckles. "Right now? About a seven," he says, his cheek throbbing something fierce.

Ryan's frown deepens. "Baby, that's no good. A seven is too high for you to work with." He sets the ice pack back in place and stands up straight, hands on his hips. "What were those pills she gave you, do you know?"

"No," Sam says, blowing out a breath and shaking his head. He thinks she said but he doesn't remember. "Some kind of painkiller. Anti-inflammatory, I think." He smiles up at Ryan but fuck, that hurts too. "I'll be fine after lunch."

 _God dammit._ Ryan's expression grows even fiercer. If he were in Sam's shoes, he'd go back out and work the rest of the day, of course he would. But this isn't him. This is _Sam_. And Ryan is pissed off as hell. "I don't like it."

"Hey," Sam says, reaching for Ryan's hand and giving it a squeeze, the look on his lover's face concerning him more than his injury. "I promise I'll ask to call it a day if it gets worse."

Hesitating, Ryan drops to his knees in front of Sam, keeping hold of his lover's hand. "You promise?" he echoes, knowing he can trust Sam to keep his word once he's given it.

"Cross my heart," Sam says with a smile.

Bringing Sam's hand to his lips, Ryan presses a warm kiss to his skin. "Okay," he sighs, and gets to his feet. "Eat," he says, pointing to the plate in front of his lover, then setting two bottles of cold water on the table as well as the second plate. "You shouldn't have those pills on an empty stomach." He grabs a handful of napkins and plastic ware and joins his lover. "Whose fault was it, anyway? Yours, or his?"

Sam snorts a laugh. "Both?" He shakes his head. "He misjudged and I didn't get out of the way."

Ryan cracks a wry grin. "Probably serves you right, then," he teases, then adds, more seriously, "but there's never enough time to rehearse the choreography. Not ever enough to really make it safe." He scoops up a forkful of food and chews thoughtfully, then suggests in a bright tone, "I can punch him back for you, if you want."

Sam laughs then winces at the pain, ducking his head a little to try and hide it. "Don't tempt me," he says, taking a sip of his water.

"Yeah, you know I've got your back," Ryan tells him with a smile, opening one of the water bottles. "And I'll respect your wishes... just as long as no one hurts you so much that you wind up on a liquids-only diet. Then I go in for the kill." He takes a swallow of cold water, and explains, "Your mouth is too important to me."

"That's it, is it?" Sam says, glancing up from his lunch. "Self-interest rather than actual concern," he teases.

Ryan shrugs, fighting not to snicker. "Which would you be more comfortable with? Such a big manly man like you."

Sam grins and just shakes his head again. "I'm not stuck on roles," he says. "I was hoping you'd play nursemaid all evening..."

"Ahhh, I see." Ryan leans back against the bench seat, his shoulders finally beginning to relax for the first time since Sam was struck while the cameras were running. "If I play nurse tonight, do I get to be drill sergeant tomorrow?" He winks.

Sam laughs. "Maybe." He takes a bite of his food, his cheekbone feeling out of whack as he chews. Fuck. "Probably." He picks up the ice pack again and presses it against his face, switching his fork to his left hand. He doesn't want Ryan worrying but if he doesn't take care of the damn thing he's going to be hurting even more this afternoon. 

His smile fading to something more dubious, more watchful, Ryan nods after a moment. "Yeah, love. I'll take care of you." He hopes Sam already knew that.

"I'll be good for tomorrow," Sam insists. "Might not bounce back as quickly as you would," he adds with a smile. "But pretty close."

"Eh. Me." Ryan shrugs off the comment, shooting Sam a grin. "You know I'm only faking it all anyway. Just wanted your attention." He draws fork lines through the last of the gravy from his meal, then pushes his plate away. "Are you starting to feel any better? You're gonna have a hell of a bruise."

"A little better," Sam says, setting the ice pack back on the table. "It's really that bad?" he asks, amused by the idea. "At least it'll mean less time in make-up." He grins.

"There's a plus." Ryan leans in and takes Sam's chin in his hand, holding him in place for a long searching kiss. He's still upset, yeah, and he definitely still wants to take a shot at the stunt guy. But Sam's attitude has gone a long way towards settling him, and kissing Sam... well, that's kind of all-purpose healing, as far as Ryan is concerned.

"Mm. You think we have time...?" Sam murmurs, nibbling at Ryan's mouth.

Ryan huffs a laugh. "Time for what?" Like his imagination can't fill in the details, but there are just so many options.

"Your mouth and my cock," Sam says. "Or your ass and my cock." He grins, eyes sparkling. "There's a theme here."

"Mm-hm." Ryan folds his arms across his chest and raises a very skeptical eyebrow. "So _that's_ the kind of nursing you're looking for. I suppose you'll be wanting me to put on stockings and a tiny little white skirt as well, plus give you all sorts of special treatment?"

Sam laughs. "We could raid wardrobe," he teases. "See what they have."

Ryan looks extremely thoughtful. "Oh, yeah! Let me consider that," he says, and barely a second later he adds, "no." He nudges Sam's shin with his foot. "But regardless, if you want anything to happen with your cock now-ish, you should do something about your clothing."

"It only takes a minute to unzip," Sam retorts, but he gets to his feet, shedding his shirt and his pants, his boots kicked aside. "Better?"

"It only takes a minute to unzip," Ryan parrots sarcastically, although his Sam impression is very un-Sam-like. "You overwhelm me with romance." He heaves a sigh and gets to his feet, pushing the remains of their lunch out of his way so he can drop his own shorts and bend over the table. But before Sam can even pin him or grab him or what have you, he takes his lover's hand and begins to languorously lick at his fingers.

Fuck. Sam's stunned, eyes locked on Ryan's mouth, on his lover's tongue on his fingers. But he gives himself a shake and slips his free hand between Ryan's cheeks, fingers rubbing over his hole. "Is that what you want? Romance? Candles and moonlight dinners?"

"And chocolate," Ryan murmurs, backing off from Sam's hand just long enough to say so. "Don't forget the chocolate."

"On you or in you?" Sam grins, pushing one long finger into Ryan.

"In--" Ryan breaks off with a groan, then takes a few moments to simply enjoy the gorgeous sensations. "All right, I suspect we don't have the same definition of 'in'." 

Sam laughs and gives Ryan another finger, taking the time to stretch him like lunch is going to last forever. "Fuck, you're still so tight," he murmurs, twisting them deeper.

"Damn right I am," Ryan mutters. "My yoga master says you're only as old as your back. So I figure, judging by the tightness of your ass..."

"You're just a baby," Sam teases, stretching Ryan open for a third finger, his cock aching to replace them all.

"Something like that. I've got the delectable ass of an 18 year-old porn star, anyway. I think we can safely go there." Ryan draws his tongue along each of Sam's fingers individually, and clenches the muscles of his ass to make it all even tighter.

Oh, fuck. "You keep on doing that," Sam says with a groan, easing his fingers from Ryan's ass, his cock slowly pushed inside, taking their place.

"Mmm, that's right." Sometimes, Ryan wants Sam to slam him against the wall and fuck him open until they're both screaming. Sometimes... Yeah, this is one of those _other_ times. He angles his hips and rocks back to meet his lover, savouring the slow burn and the slick glide.

Ryan feels incredible, as good around Sam's cock as he did his fingers. Better. Fuck. So much better. Forgetting all about the ache in his face, Sam moves into Ryan, taking his time, slowly bottoming out before he pulls back, all the way to the tip, before doing it again. And again.

"Nnnghgod you feel so good," Ryan groans, finally releasing Sam's fingers so that he can steady himself by wrapping his hands around the edges of the table.

"Oh, god, so do you," Sam exhales, eyes flickering to where they're joined, watching his cock disappear into Ryan's hole. There's a knock at the door and he growls, "What?" Never once stilling.

"You're needed back on set," comes a muffled voice. "If you're okay."

"I'm fine. I'll be there in a minute," he calls out, starting to speed up his thrusts a little. "Jesus Christ."

"You can tell them your physical therapy is almost finished," Ryan suggests, snorting a soft laugh.

"Yeah. Almost," Sam agrees, every last brain cell caught up in fucking Ryan harder, every muscle tightening, pleasure flushing through his body, a shout bit back as his hips stutter and his cock pulses, emptying hot and thick inside his lover.

Turning his head Ryan bites down hard on his arm, his sleeve muffling both the pain and his shout. He braces on his forearm and drops his other hand down to give himself a few swift strokes and that's it, he's gone, bucking his hips wildly and spraying hard against the underside of the table.

The clench of his lover's body wrenches another spurt from him and Sam slams in, hard, freezing in place as he empties every last fucking drop into Ryan. "Oh, god," he groans. "I love you so much." It's maybe not the best time to say it, but hell, Ryan knows he means it always.

When Ryan manages to catch his breath, he chuckles softly. "You're such a sap," he teases, and turns his head for a kiss. Knowing Sam can read in his smile an echo of that same sentiment.


End file.
